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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473385">Brothers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn'>Freckles_From_Brooklyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Felisian AU, Fluff, M/M, Medda is the best mom, based on Newsies live</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:33:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Kelly meets Racetrack Higgins at a shitty foster home called The Refuge, and makes a promise to protect him.</p><p> </p><p>It will take a few chapters for romance to happen, be patient.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Kelly/Crutchie Morris, Racetrack Higgins/Spot Conlon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Racetrack Higgins was terrified, the orange and white fur on his ears and tail standing on end. He’d had a lot thrown at him in the past few days. First, the three-year-old’s parents had died, then he’d been turned over to a mean-looking man named Snyder and taken to a dark, dingy foster house called the Refuge. Then, to top it all off, he’d reached for a second piece of bread at dinner, and Snyder had yelled at him, grabbed him by the tail, and hauled him down to the basement, throwing him headfirst into a dark room and locking the door. Race could hear <em> things </em> scuttling around him in the darkness. <em> Rats</em>. He was terrified of rats. Race burst into tears, curling into a ball. As his eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness, he saw something moving in the corner. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was <em> big</em>, and it was <em> coming toward him</em>! </p><p>“Please!” he screamed. “Please, I’m sorry! I just wanted more bread! Please don’t hurt me!” the thing made a grabbing motion over Race’s head, and Race yowled in fear. A dim lightbulb flickered to life, and the thing was illuminated. It was a felisian, a boy about two years older than Race. His ears and tail were mostly black, mottled with patches of brown and white, and there was concern in his brown eyes. </p><p>“Hey,” he said soothingly, reaching out a hand to Race. “Hey, don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurt you. Lemme help you up.” Race took his hand hesitantly, and the boy carefully pulled him to his feet, wrapping Race in a hug and carrying him over to the rickety cot in the corner.</p><p>“T-thanks,” Race stammered.</p><p>“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” the other boy replied. “My name’s Jack Kelly. What’s yours?”</p><p>“Antonio Higgins,” Race replied. “But my dad called me Tony, an’ my ma called me Race!”</p><p>“What d’you want me to call you?” Jack asked. Race tilted his head to the side, thinking.</p><p>“Race,” He said. “Call me Race, please.” <br/>“Alright, Race,” Jack said. “Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear? I’m gonna protect you. I ain’t gonna let Snyder hurt you.” Race nodded, burying his face in Jack’s shirt. </p><p>“All I wanted was more food,” he whimpered. “Why’s he so mean?”</p><p>“He hates us,” Jack said. “He hates felisians. He wants to “fix” us, only he can’t, so he settles for beatin’ us into submission.”</p><p>“But youse gonna protect me, right?” Race asked. </p><p>“Yeah, Ise gonna protect you,” Jack said, gently stroking Race’s back. “You tired, kiddo?” Race nodded. “Go to sleep, then. Youse safe with me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Adopted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jack and Race get adopted</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, you little freaks,” Snyder said. “We got someone comin’ in to adopt one of you vermin, so go line up in the lobby! Any funny business and you’ll be in the Hole for a week without food!” Race grabbed Jack’s hand, and Jack squeezed it reassuringly. Three years had passed since they’d first met. Jack was eight now, and Race was six. The two were inseparable.</p><p>“You’re not gonna let the person separate us, are you, Jackie?” Race asked, his tail swishing nervously. </p><p>“Never,” Jack said. “Not even for a day. We’s a package deal, you an’ me. We don’t go nowhere without each other.”</p><p>“Promise?” Race asked. </p><p>“Promise,” Jack replied. “C’mon, let’s go before Snyder gets mad.” the pair hurried down to the lobby and got in line. Snyder was standing next to a nice-looking black woman in a smart pantsuit and a large sunhat was standing to Snyder. </p><p>“This is Miss Medda Larkin,” Snyder barked. “Remember, be on your <em> best behavior</em>.” miss Medda immediately locked eyes with Jack, and pulled him aside to talk. </p><p>“You’re a remarkable young man,” she said after they’d talked for a while. “How would you like to come home with me?” </p><p>“No thank you, ma’am,” Jack said. “Not without my brother.”</p><p>“Brother?” Medda asked. “Mr. Snyder said there were no siblings here.”</p><p>“Well, we ain’t blood brothers,” Jack admitted. “But we look out for each other, and we’s a package deal. I made him a promise that I wouldn’t let anyone separate us, an’ Ise stickin’ to that. I’d love to come home wit’ you, but I ain’t goin’ anywhere without him.” </p><p>“Well I’d love to meet him,” Medda said. “Can you introduce us?” Jack nodded, and they stepped out into the lobby. </p><p>“Race, c’mere,” Jack called. Race ran forward, wrapping his arms around Jack’s leg and holding on tight. He looked up at Medda, his blue eyes wide. “Ma’am, this’s Antonio Higgins, but he prefers to be called Racetrack or Race,” Jack said. </p><p>“It’s nice to meet you, Race,” Medda said, crouching down so she was at Race’s eye level. She shook Race’s hand and stood up. “I’d like to adopt these two, please,” she said. </p><p>“But you haven’t looked at any of the others!” Snyder protested.</p><p>“I know I’d like these two,” Medda said firmly. </p><p>“Very well,” Snyder said reluctantly. “You two have ten minutes to pack. You know where the bags are. Go!” Jack and Race scampered up to the bunkroom. Jack quickly found the trash bags that all of the adopted children carried their meager belongings in when they left. He packed their things as Race bounced up and down on the bed. </p><p>“Jackie, we’s free!” he chirped, his tail twitching excitedly. “We’s free we’s free we’s free! We’re leavin’ this awful place!”</p><p>“Yeah, we sure are!” Jack said, tapping Race’s cheek with his tail. “Toldja we’d do it someday. C’mon, let’s go find our new ma!” The two hurried downstairs, where Medda was just coming out of Snyder’s office. </p><p>“Is this all you have?” She asked. Jack and Race nodded. They carried their bags outside, where Medda’s car was waiting. Instead of driving home immediately, Medda drove them to a mall first. </p><p>“What’re we doin’ here?” Jack asked, his ears pricked curiously. </p><p>“You two need new clothes,” Medda replied. “And this mall has some of the best felisian stores in New York.”</p><p>“Wait, how d’you know what the best felisian stores are?” Jack asked. </p><p>“Well, honey, when you’ve been a felisian your whole life, you learn things,” Medda teased. </p><p>“But Snyder doesn’t adopt kids out to felisian parents!” Jack said. </p><p>“He does if he doesn’t know they’s felisian,” Medda replied, grinning. She took off her hat, revealing brown striped ears with white tips, and she pulled her tail out from where it had been tucked in her pants. “Now c’mon, boys. Let’s shop!” the trio walked around the mall for a while, and Medda bought clothes and suitcases for Jack and Race. </p><p>“Jackie look!” Race said, tugging on Jack’s shirt as they passed a toy shop. “Look, it looks like me!” he pointed to a plush ginger and white cat in the window. </p><p>“Sure does, kiddo!” Jack said, ruffling his hair. </p><p>“Do you want it?” Medda asked. Race’s ears and tail drooped. </p><p>“I don’t need it,” He said. </p><p>“That wasn’t my question, little one,” Medda said kindly. “I know you don’t <em> need </em> it, the question is do you <em> want </em>it?”</p><p>“Yes please!” Race said. </p><p>“Then let’s go get it, shall we?” Medda replied, kissing Race’s head. Race practically sprinted into the store. They emerged moments later, Race hugging the plush cat tight. Jack nudged him. </p><p>“Whaddya say, kiddo?” he prompted. </p><p>“Thanks, ma!” Race chirped. Medda laughed. </p><p>“It’s my pleasure, little one,” She said. “Jack, is there anything you’d like?”</p><p>“No, thank you,” Jack said. </p><p>“But Jackie, look!” Race said. “There’s an art store over there!” </p><p>“You like to draw?” Medda asked. Jack nodded. “Well let’s getcha some stuff!” Medda said. As they eventually left the mall, Race paused in front of a dance store, where there was a screen playing a video of the Nutcracker ballet.</p><p>“Ma!” he called. “Ma, I wanna do that!”</p><p>“Do what, darling?” Medda asked. </p><p>“That!” Race said, pointing to the screen. “I wanna jump an’ twirl an’ dance!” </p><p>“Let’s get you what you’ll need, then!” Medda said. “I’ll find a class for you to take. You wanna do exactly what they’re doing?” Race nodded enthusiastically. “That’s called ballet,” Medda informed him. “It’s pretty tricky, but I bet a talented little kitten like you could get the hang of it in no time!” Race practically glowed with pride.</p><p>“Thanks, Ma,” Jack said as they left the mall, laden with bags.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, boys,” Medda replied. “And if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun was beginning to set by the time Jack, Race, and Medda reached Medda’s large suburban house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home, boys!” Medda said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You live </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Race asked, eyes wide as he stared at the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure do,” Medda replied. “And so do you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so big!” Race gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” Medda said. “Perfect for two energetic kittens like you two! C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll order pizza while you two get situated in your rooms.” Jack and Race glanced at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, ma?” Jack asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, darling?” Medda replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we share a room?” Jack asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Medda said. “But after so much time sharin’ a room, I’d think you’d want your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Race can’t sleep unless he’s with me,” Jack explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, kiddo. You two can have the third bedroom on the right. It’s got a big bed and its own bathroom.” Race tugged on Jack’s shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackie, wanna piggyback,” he whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh-uh,” Jack said. “You gotta help me carry the stuff upstairs. I’ll give you a piggyback down.” Race pouted. “An’ don’t think the kitten pout’s gonna do anything,” Jack said, ruffling Race’s hair. “Ise immune.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meanie,” Race huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Jack deadpanned. “That’s me. Your mean, awful big brother who hates you. C’mon, let’s go.” they carried their stuff to the room. It was a large room, with plain white walls and a queen-sized bed. Jack and Race diligently unpacked the things that medda had gotten them, then went back downstairs, Race riding on Jack’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, boys!” Medda called. “The pizza should be here any minute. Can you help me set the table, please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma,” Jack said, setting Race down. “C’mon, kiddo.” Jack and Race set the table, and they all sat down to eat. After dinner, as he helped clear the table, the plate Race was holding slipped from his grasp. It shattered against the tile floor. Race froze, tears welling up in his eyes. Jack ran to him and hugged him tight, shielding Race’s body with his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s goin’ on in here?” Medda asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ise sorry I didn’t mean to break it!” Race whimpered. “It was a mistake, honest! Please don’t hurt me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Race,” Medda said, gently nudging Jack aside and picking Race up. “Even if you’d dropped it on purpose, I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t believe in hittin’ children. All it does is scare them, an’ I don’t want you two to be scared of me. Now why don’t you and Jack go watch a movie in the other room while I clean this up? I don’t want you to step on anything sharp.” She handed Race to Jack, who carried him into the living room. Race buried his face in Jack’s chest, sobbing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Jack!” he said. “She just adopted us an’ I already messed everythin’ up! She’s gonna send us back to Snyder!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh, shhh,” Jack cooed, rubbing Race’s back. “It’s alright. She ain’t gonna take us back. She wasn’t mad at all. It’ll be okay. I promise. Sing with me, okay?” Race nodded as Jack started to sing softly. “Little one, child of mine, safely rest tonight. Through a window, shining stars touch you with their light. Someday you may travel far, someday you may roam,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someday you may find yourself lost and far from home,” Race mumbled, beginning to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” Jack said. They finished the song together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never fear, momma’s near, though just out of sight. Look above, find your star in the darkest night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?” Jack asked. Race nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jackie,” He mumbled sleepily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course,” Jack said. “What’re big brothers for?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm a dumbass and I forgot to post this before posting the questions chapter oops</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Years passed. Jack and Race got older and went through elementary school, still leaning on each other for guidance. Race took dance lessons and was involved in community theatre, excelling at both, while Jack took after school art classes and helped paint sets at local theatres and schools. Much to Jack’s annoyance, it looked as if Race was going to end up taller than him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was school, boys?” Medda asked as they sat down to dinner. It was Race’s first day of sixth grade, and Jack’s first day of eighth grade. “Race, how’re you liking middle school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Race said. “There’s this really cute boy in my class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, Race has a cruuuuush!” Jack teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shutup!” Race retorted, whipping the beanie off his head and chucking it at his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Race, you’re gay?” Medda asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No!” Race said, panicked. “No, I’m not gay! Gay is bad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is gay bad?” Medda asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it just is,” Race said. “Snyder always said it was bad. That’s why the boys weren’t allowed to have plushies or dance. It would make us gay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Race, honey, being gay isn’t anything to be ashamed of,” Medda said calmly. “You like boys, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Race said. “I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess I’ve never really been into girls. Never really thought of ‘em as anything but friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all that gay means,” Medda explained. “A boy who likes other boys or a girl who likes other girls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if you like boys an’ girls?” Jack asked, his ears pricked with curiosity. “Is there a name for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bisexual,” Medda said. “But lots of folks call it bi for short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s what I am,” Jack said. “I had a crush on Kath, the editor for the school’s pape, for a while, but now I think I like a boy in my class.” he blushed. “He’s real cute an’ real sweet, an’ his ears an’ tail are real fluffy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing, sweetie!” Medda said encouragingly, ruffling Jack’s hair. “I’m so glad you two are learning so much about yourselves. Just remember that these kindsa things ain’t set in stone. You can identify as gay now, but later you might actually be bi, or vice versa. Just cuz you identify this way now, that doesn’t mean you have to identify that way for the rest of your life.” Jack and Race both nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I heard some kids at school talking about flags,” Race said. “Pride flags, I think? What’re those?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, every identity has a flag,” Medda said. “For example, the gay flag is rainbow, and the bi flag’s got a pink stripe on top, a purple stripe in the middle, and a blue flag on the bottom. Those flags are called pride flags. There’s always a big festival every summer where a whole lotta people of all different genders and sexualities get together, and there’s a parade and it’s basically a big party. I can take you guys if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, yes please!” Jack said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds fun!” Race added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Race lay awake in bed, tossing and turning as he tried to reconcile what Snyder had drilled into his head with what Medda had told him. Jack’s tail smacked him across the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit movin’,” Jack griped sleepily. “Ise tryin’ to sleep, an’ I can’t wit’ you doin’ the cha cha over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackie, am I bad?” Race asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jack said. “But not ‘cuz you’re gay, cuz you ain’t lettin’ me fuckin’ sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Snyder sa—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a shit what Snyder said. He was never right about anything. I don’t give a flying fuck who you wanna kiss, just go to sleep, you asshole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jack,” Race said, oddly reassured by that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Jack grumbled. “Night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Crutchie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good job, guys!” Crutchie called as rehearsal ended. “The rehearsal notes will be coming out later tonight! Make sure to keep working on your lines, you have to be off-book in a week!” Crutchie took his stage manager job very seriously. It was an important job, and one not usually given to freshmen like him. With the theatre teacher out of town for a conference, he was in charge, and he definitely didn’t want to screw anything up. As the last actor filed out of the theater, Crutchie started locking up. As he walked towards the doors of the school, he noticed a light still on in the art room. He peered in and saw a boy working on a painting. The painting was beautiful and insanely detailed, showing forest trail in autumn, but the boy painting it was even more gorgeous. His ears and tail were black, dappled with brown and white patches of fur and more colorful splotches of paint. </p><p>“Uh, hey,” Crutchie said. The boy jumped and turned around. “Sorry to startle you,” Crutchie continued. “Butcha might wanna head out. I think they’s gonna start lockin’ up rooms soon.”</p><p>“Huh? What time’s it?” the boy asked. </p><p>“Close to 7:30,” Crutchie replied. </p><p>“Aw <em> shit,</em>” the boy said. “I was s’posed to be home an hour ago! I promised my ma!”</p><p>“Need any help cleanin’ up?” Crutchie asked. </p><p>“Yes, please,” Jack said gratefully, handing Crutchie a couple of brushes. “I’m Jack Kelly, by the way. I think we have history together.” the tip of Crutchie’s tail flicked with excitement, almost unconsciously. <em> The cute boy recognized him! </em></p><p>“Uh, yeah!” he squeaked. “I’m Charlie Morris, but most folks call me Crutchie!”</p><p>“Ain’t that a little rude?” Jack said. Crutchie shrugged as he and Jack walked over to the sink and started cleaning the brushes. </p><p>“I don’t mind,” he said. “My bum leg’s as much a part of me as my ears and tail are. I don’t gotta hide it, and I don’t really wanna.” </p><p>“That’s fair,” Jack said. They chatted about this and that as they cleaned up, then walked out of the building together. </p><p>“Hey, d’you wanna go see the new <em> Frozen </em> movie on Saturday?” Crutchie asked.</p><p>“I’m down, but I gotta ask my ma,” Jack replied. He grabbed Crutchie’s arm and wrote his number down on it. “Shoot me a text, I’ll tell you whether I can or not.”</p><p>“Will do,” Crutchie said. “See ya later, Jack!”</p><p>“See ya!” Jack called, hopping on his bike and heading home. </p><p>“Jack Kelly, is that you?!” Medda yelled as he walked into the house. </p><p>“Yes, ma,” Jack said. </p><p>“You were supposed to be home an hour ago!” Medda scolded. “You coulda at least texted! I was worried sick!”</p><p>“Oooooooh, Jack’s in trouble!” Race sing-songed from the couch. </p><p>“Shutup, Racetrack!” Jack said. “Sorry, ma. I was workin’ on my art project and I lost track of time.” Medda hugged him. </p><p>“I’m just glad you’re safe,” she said. </p><p>“Ma?” Jack said. </p><p>“Yes, darling?” Medda asked. </p><p>“Can I go to the movies on Saturday?” Jack asked. “One of my friends, the one I mentioned that I have a crush on, he invited me to go see that new frozen movie with him, and I really wanna go. We’s still workin’ out details, but can I?”</p><p>“‘Course, kiddo!” medda said. “Keep me posted on the details.”</p><p>“Alright.” Jack flopped down on the couch next to Race. </p><p>“Youse lucky,” Race said. “Youse making headway wit’ your crush. I don’t gotta chance wit’ mine.”</p><p>“What makes ya say that?” Jack asked. </p><p>“He’s on the <em> football team</em>.” Race gagged. “There’s no way he’s into guys.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t give up yet!” Jack said. “Not until you know for a <em> fact </em> he’s straight.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess youse right,” Race said. He curled into Jack’s side. “I love ya, Jackie.” Jack ran his hands through Race’s curly blond hair, scratching at the base of his brother’s ears.</p><p>“Love ya too, Racetrack,” he replied. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Spot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We stan gay disaster Racetrack Higgins</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race could barely contain his excitement. After years and years of getting supporting roles in community theatre productions, he’d gotten his first lead: Hamlet, the titular prince from one of Shakespeare’s most famous works. He sat in the production meeting, thumbing through his script as the other actors milled about. </p><p>“Alright, folks!” the director called. “Get settled. We’re just waiting on one more person, then we’ll start!” a few minutes later, the door opened. In walked Spot Conlon, and Race was sure his heart had stopped beating. Spot Conlon-- beautiful popular athletic <em>perfect </em> Spot Conlon-- he was in this play? He liked theater? Race dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. Nope, not dreaming. Spot sat down next to Race, flashing him that perfect, <em> flawless </em>smile that seemed reserved only for the prettiest cheerleaders at school, and Race found it hard to breathe. <em> Fuck</em>, he was going to die. The director started off the meeting with introductions, with everyone going around and saying their name, pronouns, and their role or job in the production. </p><p>“I’m Sean Conlon, but I prefer to go by Spot,” Spot said when it was his turn. “I use he/him pronouns, and I’m playing Horatio.” </p><p> <em> Fuck, </em> Race thought. Out of all the characters Spot could’ve been cast as, why did he get the one character that had homoerotic subtext with Hamlet?</p><p>“I’m Antonio Higgins, but I prefer to go by Racetrack or Race,” he said. “I also use he/him pronouns, and I’m playing Hamlet.” As the director went on to talk about the production, Race found himself focusing on Spot. As the meeting wrapped up, Race headed out towards the parking lot to meet Jack, but someone grabbed his arm. Race jumped and whirled around, half ready to punch whoever it was. Spot stood there, that life-ruiningly perfect smile still on his face. </p><p>“We go to school together, don’t we?” he asked. Race could only nod. “Are you in my bio class?” Spot asked. </p><p>“English,” Race squeaked. </p><p>“Right. English,” Spot said. “I knew you looked familiar. We didn’t have any homework tonight, did we?” </p><p>“Just reading,” Race replied. </p><p>“Gotcha,” Spot said. “Thanks. Well, see ya tomorrow!”</p><p>“See ya!” Race replied. He watched as Spot pulled on a leather jacket and a helmet, sitting down astride a sleek black motorcycle. </p><p><em> Of course, </em> Race thought. <em> Of fucking course. Just when he couldn’t get more attractive, he’s got a fucking motorcycle. </em> Jack honked his horn at him.</p><p>“Hey dumbass!” he yelled. “Get in the car ‘fore we die of old age here, will ya?”</p><p>“Yeah yeah,” Race grumbled, getting in the car. </p><p>“So how was the meeting?” Jack asked as he pulled out of the lot.</p><p>“I’m going to die, Jack!” Race said. </p><p>“Because of prettyboy football man?” Jack asked. </p><p>“You know I hate it when you call him that,” Race griped. “But yes, because of him. He’s Horatio, Jack! He’s Horatio, I’m Hamlet, and you <em> know </em> Shakespeare wasn’t fucking around with the homoerotic subtext!”</p><p>“Hey, it’ll turn out ok,” Jack said. “It did for me and Crutchie.”</p><p>“Crutchie doesn’t play football,” Race retorted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Subtext</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“‘Ey, Racer!” Spot called before rehearsal one day, sauntering up to Race. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Race replied. He ordinarily hated the nickname Racer, but when Spot used it, his heart would skip a beat. Race still hadn’t gotten entirely used to Spot’s presence, but at least he didn’t sound like a trodden-on mouse when he talked to him anymore. “What’s up?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure youse aware of the… uh… subtext between Hamlet an’ Horatio,” Spot said, his black tail twitching nervously. “And… um… I asked the director, an’ he said that I could make it… more than subtext, as long as you were okay wit’ it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Race asked stupidly. Spot sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Ise shit at explainin’ things,” he said. “The director said we can make Hamlet and Horatio explicitly gay, but I gotta ask you if youse okay wit’ it first.” Race’s mouth went dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what kinda gay stuff were ya thinkin’?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Longing glances, casual flirty touches, stuff like that,” Spot said. He swallowed. “And… if youse okay wit’ it, after my goodnight sweet prince line, I’d kiss you. But only if youse okay wit’ it!” Race gulped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even the kiss?” Spot asked, slightly surprised. Race nodded. “Right,” Spot said, somewhat awkwardly. “I’ll go tell the director, then.” He walked off. That day, they were rehearsing the duel scene. As Race “died,” Spot knelt by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now cracks a noble heart,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” he leaned in. “Ready?” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it,” Race whispered back. He wasn’t prepared for the tenderness with which Spot caressed his cheek, or the softness of the kiss, or the jolt of electricity it sent coursing through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, boys,” the director said. “That was good, but we couldn’t quite see it in the audience, so Spot, can you kneel on the other side next time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Spot said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s take it again from the top!” the director called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A month later, it was closing night. The director had invited everyone out to a bar to celebrate, and while he’d made sure all the underage actors would be welcome at the bar, Race didn’t feel like celebrating. He’d loved being able to act flirty with Spot, and loved having Spot flirt back, but now that had come to an end. Now everything would go back to how it had always been, with Race pining hopelessly and Spot barely even looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Race, wait!” Spot yelled, running after him as he exited the theater. Race turned as Spot caught up to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t you goin’ out with everyone?” Spot asked. Race shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t feel like it,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Spot replied. “Well… uh… d’you wanna go do something together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t you goin’ out wit’ all them?” Race asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you ain’t,” Spot said. “The only reason I was plannin’ on goin’ was to hang out wit’ you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Race asked. Spot shifted his weight awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… y’see… the only real reason I auditioned for this was you,” He said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t really like theatre? I should’ve known,” Race said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Spot said hurriedly. “No, that’s not it! I do like theatre, I just don’t show it at school much cuz I’d get bullied by the other football guys! An’ sure, Shakespeare ain’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> my cup of tea, but he ain’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But… I like you.” Spot looked at the ground, a blush spreading across his face. “Ever since I first saw you in seventh grade, I’ve had this massive crush on you, and I tried to ignore it because everyone expects me to go out with a cheerleader, but I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go out with a cheerleader. I don’t want to go out with a girl. But every time I tried to ignore my crush on you it only got stronger and then I heard you mention this show to someone in the halls so I auditioned and here we are.” Spot’s ears and tail drooped. “I’m sorry. You probably hate me. I’ll just go.” he turned and started heading towards his motorcycle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Race said. Spot turned back, and all Race could think to say was “Youse gay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Spot said, then his eyes widened. “Oh god, please don’t tell me youse straight!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“No! No, Ise gay too!” Race said hurriedly. “I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” Spot said. “I’m pretty closeted. There’s a group of guys on the football team who… who don’t like gays, an’ I hate them, but I don’t wanna stop playing an’ I didn’t have the guts to stand up to ‘em before now, so I just kinda sucked it up and pretended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… you like me?” Race asked. “As in, wanna go out with me, like me?” Spot nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If… if that’s okay with you,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay with me,” Race said. “But what about the homophobes on the team?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, jus’ let ‘em try to mess wit’ me,” Spot said, grinning. “I’ll get the whole lotta them expelled. I gotta whole buncha dirt on ‘em, homophobia’d just be the icing on the cake.” he looked up at Race. “Can I kiss you for real, now that you ain’t pretendin’ to be dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Race said. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Spot cupped his cheek, gently pulling him down and kissing him softly. It was even better than the kisses that Spot and Race had shared onstage. While those had been just as sweet and soft as this one, there was always some hesitation, some holding back, some unsaid “no homo.” This kiss was passionate, loving, and fully homo. Spot grinned as they broke apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was amazing,” He said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Race said breathlessly, grinning back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna go get milkshakes?” Spot asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Race said. “Milkshakes sound good.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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